ripples
by scribblingnellie
Summary: It seems the reputation of Mr Sherlock Holmes the younger has preceded his introduction to Miss Molly Hooper. Who is he under that brusque exterior? Does Miss Hooper want to find out? An AU writing experiment (and a bit of fun!), dropping Sherlock and Molly into the world of Jane Austen. A May creative prompt story. Many thanks for reading.


_'He's everything a young man ought not to be. Arrogant, rude, disrespectful.'_

'He may have a thousand pounds a year but his disdain for others, his conceit! The mothers of eligible young ladies are best to keep them away from Mr Holmes the younger.'

_'Perhaps having such a loyal and kind friend in Mr Watson must surely indicate something in his nature that is good.'_

'Such a friendship does seem quite unusual in someone of Mr Holmes' reputation.'

_'I hear he takes quite prodigious care of his friend Mr Watson, and a keen interest in his affairs.'_

'Yes, only a very particular young lady would suit Mr Holmes' idea of a wife for Mr Watson, one would suppose.'

_'And yet he does not seek a wife for himself? Perhaps no young lady would have him, despite his thousand pounds a year!'_

* * *

Full to the brim, the parlour echoed with the sound of polite conversation and the clinking of tea cups. Finally released from her duties as tea-pourer, Molly had sneaked away to stand in the corner, close by the door to the kitchen steps, for ease of escape if necessary. Her mother always insisted upon inviting one or two of the neighbourhood's eligible young men to her afternoon teas and would make a point of attempting to introduce them to her. Molly certainly did not object to conversation with a nice young man, it was that she had yet to find the young man whose conversation did not want to make her fall asleep there and then in the armchair.

'Ah, Molly, there you are!'

Her mother's voice made her jump, teacup rattling on the saucer as she clutched at it to stop it from falling. Where had she appeared from?

'Mama.' Molly refrained from saying any more, in case her mother wanted her back pouring tea again.

'My dear, I wanted to introduce Mr Holmes to you. Your father so kindly called on Mr Watson and Mr Holmes at The Beeches this morning on his way into town and invited them to tea this afternoon. And as you see, Mr Watson is quite taken with our dear Mary. It seems a shame to find you here alone in this drafty corner, so I have enticed Mr Holmes over to introduce you properly...'

As her mother's voice prattled on in the background, Molly found herself staring up into the most deep blue eyes she had ever encountered. Eyes that, while not betraying their owner's feelings at being stuck in a parlour in a small country town, certainly weren't welcoming or curious. Molly had not known that Mr Holmes would be there that afternoon. Not one of her mother's 'eligible young men' was he?

At some point during her rambling, her mother had made the introduction, Molly had curtseyed, Mr Holmes had bowed, brief and perfunctory, and her mother had drifted off, a self satisfied smile playing across her mouth. Yes, she obviously did think of Mr Holmes as an eligible young man, his thousand pounds outweighing his preceding reputation.

'Mr Holmes, it was kind of you to accept my father's invitation and join us for tea.'

His nose wrinkled as his cool blue eyed gaze swept the room. 'Your father invited Mr Watson, who asked for the invitation to be extended to myself. '

Which sounded, by the tone of his voice, to have been something he'd rather had not happened. Holding himself upright, his neck stiff, arms clasped behind his back, Mr Holmes looked so out of place. Oh certainly, he was dressed properly for the occasion - afternoon tea party at the home of one of the noted local gentlemen - but his face, his whole body told that he was uncomfortable in their small country society. And such a demeanour would not make him well liked amongst that society.

Still, thought Molly, one must make the effort to be polite to one's guests I suppose.

'That was thoughtful of him. Mr Watson does seem a rather decent sort of gentleman. I can certainly see why Mary likes his company. I find...'

'Miss Hooper..' His sudden interruption caused her to look up, directly into his eyes once again. '... I'm told that you are the only young lady with whom one can have an intelligent conversation in this part of the county. I hope that this is the case as I am not one to stand about in small parlours engaging in polite meaningless chatter.'

Well, he was honest, which was... refreshing, Molly supposed.

'I hope that I am, Mr Holmes, as polite meaningless chatter is certainly not something I enjoy myself.'

'That is good to hear. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hooper.'

And then he proffered his hand. They had just literally been introduced and he was not only eschewing any of the formalities and pleasantries of polite conversation, but he was offering her his hand to shake? A gentleman, if one was using the term to describe a person's standing in life rather than a reflection of their character, would not expect a lady to shake his hand as a way of introduction. And praising her conversation? Was a gentleman not meant to praise a young lady's ability to play the piano or arrange flowers or sew screens? Perhaps Mr Holmes, with all his disdain and contempt for small country society, might actually have a rational, intelligent mind under that brusque exterior. And intelligent rational minds, Molly knew to her everyday cost, were what her small country society lacked.

Anyway, she couldn't play the piano or sew screens or arrange flowers. Conversation - real, meaningful intelligent conversation - was her accomplishment. To her mother's never ending frustration, it was most probably her only 'proper' accomplishment. If Molly had been allowed, as a rational thinking human being, to have been educated as a man would be, then she would have excelled at it. Her rebellion was therefore to make a hash of almost every accomplishment that her mother thought she should learn.

So, as she looked down at his hand, still extended towards her, Molly put all thoughts of what was considered proper and what was expected out of her head, and placed her hand in his. His grip was firm, decisive and brief. What surprised her most though, was the warmth.

'Thank you, Mr Holmes.' Returning the handshake with her own confident, assured one, which her father had taught her. 'I shall take your praise of my conversation as a compliment.'

'Do. I do not see the point of dull pleasantries and polite untruths when talking with anyone.'

'Even good friends? Even if it means making them uncomfortable?' Molly let her eyes fall on the pair across the room, nodding at them when it was obvious that the young, blunt man did not initially comprehend her meaning.

Mr Watson appeared enthralled by whatever it was that Mary was telling him; his full attention was focused on her and she appeared quite happy and animated in his company. Molly smiled; Mr Watson seemed very deserving of Mary's happy disposition and good opinion.

'Yes, well, John... I mean Mr Watson has that ability, which I think may be his only fault, to always see the good in people, to the exclusion of all their other qualities.' Another scowl accompanied his pronouncement.

Had he just slighted Mary? Was he telling her that he did not like Mary simply because his friend had been engaged in conversation with her for nearly an hour? Did it not occur to him that perhaps Mr Watson wanted to talk only with Mary?

'Is that so Mr Holmes?' Feeling the true meaning of his words, Molly place her cup and saucer carefully down on the side table. 'The young lady he is conversing with is my dear friend and cousin, Miss Morstan, an orphan and ward of my uncle, Lord Morstan. How is it that you feel you are able to form an opinion, and not a good one it would seem, of my friend's character on the basis of only one observed conversation?'

'But Miss Hooper..' His tone, his face seemed to say to Molly that he was surprised, and possibly a little hurt by her reply. '.. that is what I do; it is what I am. I see, I listen, I observe and from these I am able to form such pronouncements, as you call them.'

However he attempted to justify his actions, Molly heard the arrogance in his voice. Whatever his compliments to her about her character, the slight on Mary's was intolerable. And a thousand pounds a year certainly did not make his conceit acceptable.

'Then perhaps, Mr Holmes, such pronouncements are best kept to yourself in my company. If you'll excuse me.'

'But, Miss Hooper, I...'

Turning her back, Molly headed out into the hall, making for the kitchen stairs. Insufferable man! Let him to his friend Mr Watson, who was probably the only person in the country who could endure the company of such a rude, arrogant young man. She certainly had no intention of seeking the company of Mr Holmes again.

* * *

**Written for the May creative prompts series of stories. I have been pondering writing an AU Sherlock in a Jane Austen style! A few liberties taken but a lot of fun had. Hope you enjoyed reading.**


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